Poems (Charlotte Allen)/Scepticism
SCEPTICISM.
Oh, ye who doubt there is a God, Come forth with me and viewThe springing grass, the budding plant, The morning's sparkling dew.List to the soft wind's gentle breath, Inhale the fragrant breeze,With mellowed richness, sweet perfume Borne from the flow'ring trees.
Come view the little winding brook, A joyously it flows,Its verdant banks with flowers rife, A bright enchantment throws.Gaze on the ocean's wide expanse, And mark its bosom's rise,Hark to the murmur of the deep, As mournfully it sighs.
Gaze on the brilliant orb of day, Enthroned in yon blue sky;Then mark the gentle "queen of night," In majesty on high;View all the sparkling gems so bright, On Heaven's arching brow;Contemplate all, then ask thyself, Am I insensate now?
Could all these wond'rous things appear Without Almighty Power?The changing seasons as they pass, Are they not full each hourWith striking proofs there is a God, Who guides with wisdom's plan,All time, all change within this sphere; Though wisely veiled from man?
Would such firm order be displayed Where'er our eyes we throw,If chance created everything Above, around; below?Whate'er we see, or hear, or feel, In nature's wide domains,Proclaims aloud there is a God, Who all our homage claims.